Mistakes and Consequences
by Rejar
Summary: All she'd wanted was to live in freedom. All she needed was to survive her pursuers. In her desperation, Sona fled into one of the most dangerous places that existed on Tamriel. With the walls of the daedric shrine crushing down on her, she found herself trapped in the darkness - and soon a pawn to Mehrunes Dagon's plans of conquest.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own The Elder Scrolls in any way. Bethesda does.**

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Sona held her breath, waiting for the treacherous sound of footsteps. But nothing disturbed the silence. Clutching her weapon tightly, she continued down the long, dark corridor. The ruins ran much deeper than she'd guessed and she'd already lost herself within them. The winding corridors and darkness were deceptive, the whispers coming off the walls frightening. She could not turn back. This was the only way of survival - and that thought the only sane thing keeping her body going forward.

The path took a turn and continued further down. Her hairs stood on end. _Too deep. _Fear tugged at the edges of her mind and her heart raced. She shouldn't be going further down. Danger lurked in the deeps. Death.

She paused briefly, waging her chances of finding another path in the maze without running into her pursuers. Her eyes warily glanced at the walls around her. They had been furious enough to follow her inside. To which depths would they follow for revenge? If they dared disturb the ruins too greatly, they'd all find death quickly.

She continued further down, the patch even and without steps. The leather shoes made no sound on the hard stone and gave no trail to follow. It didn't take long before she reached another turn towards her right and took it, stretching her luck even further. Her heartbeat stopped when she saw the flickering of a torch and red eyes staring up at her.

There was but a friction of hesitation before the torch hit the ground and the silver glint of a sword closed in on her.

Sona ducked and rolled sideways, instinct kicking in. Her body met the wall, halting her movement. The sword came down again, accompanied by a wild, high-pitched cry. It barely missed her as she stumbled towards the room with the flickering torch on the ground.

In one fluent motion, she pulled a throwing knife out of its sheath and aimed at the dark elf. He raised his shield and shrugged the knife off effortlessly before he lunged at her crouching form. Her muscles constricted almost painfully to avoid the hit and vault away. Once her feet met firm ground again, she shifted her weight back and pushed her body up to the heavily armored enemy. This was her chance.

She lunged at him with one fast move. Her sword found its target and cut a straight line across the exposed neck as he turned towards her. Blood spurt out into her face, blinding her. She stepped back as quickly as she could, wiping away the blood with her sleeves. A faint metallic taste filled her mouth as some of the blood found its way inside.

All she heard was shiver arousing gurgling, spitting and the coughing gasping for air. A sword dropped to the ground with a loud, clattering sound. The echo violently tore through the silence. The seconds felt like eternity when she blinked her eyes open and watched the Dunmer succumb to his impending death. _Unnecessary painful,_ she thought. But it was either him or her. Sona stood above him and watched as a red puddle formed around his head. Her mind never halted in thinking. _Get away! _it screamed at her, when the torch's light flickered in his dead eyes.

Then everything happened very fast.

She heard a dangerous hiss from behind and spun around. Searing pain erupted from her side as something pierced her body. She barely caught the cry from escaping her lips. She jumped away and held her waist. The leather was ripped in a straight cut and the cold immediately gnawed at the exposed flesh and tissue.

The fiery gleam of his eyes lured all her doubts and fears to the surface. His face a mocking grimace that was even more fearful in the unsteady light flickering across dark tattoos and sharp horns. He spun his sword once before he raised it to strike again. The spikes on his armor glistened sharply with the movement. _Dremora_, something echoed in her mind. They'd disturbed the place.

Her eyes widened. _Fuck, fuck, fuck! _She backed away from the creature and his strike missed her by a hair. What had she thought, bravely running into this ruin? She couldn't fight against _it_. She couldn't win. She couldn't flee. Shouting reached her from above, dreadfully close and her heart sank even lower. They found her. Shit, they found _her! _

All her senses screamed survival. An animal cornered, the mind in fear's grip. She looked around frantically, keeping distance from her attacker. The footsteps were just behind the wall. _Seconds. _

It was then she finally noticed the statue inside the room and ran for it, shamelessly turning her back to her enemy and fleeing the moment she found an escape. This was a lost cause.

She leaped onto the platform, slipping over plates filled with gems and gold. Fear for death led her body to new heights. Blood rushed past her ears, dulling the pain with each move she made, panicky climbing the statue. _Survive._

Her blood smeared the statue the higher she got but she never lost hold. Two familiar voices shouted inside the room. Someone screeched wildly. Curses. Her name. She bit her lip and reached higher yet again. _Survive. _

"You may not die by my hands, Sona, but you _will _die!" Her head snapped in his direction just in time to see his blonde hair disappear out of sight as his iron staff broke in two under the powerful blow of the Dremora. A loud explosion followed their escape. The entire structure trembled wildly.

She held onto the neck of the statue tightly. Stone cracked, rips crossing the whole room. Debris crashed down around her. Her legs slipped off the statue, dangling and weighing her down when she struggled to keep hold. A bestial scream drowned the noise. She coughed as dust entered her lungs. Everything turned pitch-black.

Then all movement stopped. An eerie silence spread across the room.

* * *

Her head spun and another coughing fit shook her body. Her arms hurt but she never loosened her grip. She'd literally clung to her life. And she _was still alive. _Relief flooded her despite the situation.

After seconds of silence, she pulled herself up with great effort until she rested on top the statue's head. Her body ached all over as if she'd crawled through hell and back. But she had no time to rest. Adrenaline still rushed through her blood and she intended to make the best of it; to flee as long as the pain was subdued.

Then a guttural scream tore through the darkness.

Her hand immediately flew to her weapon and her eyes scurried through the room. A cold shiver ran down her spine when the scream downed to painful moans, the agony palpable in the strained voice. She gulped, now hating the darkness that had been her dangerous safeguard when she'd walked into the ruin. This voice didn't sound human.

It was then that a familiar orange pair of eyes appeared in the dark and glared into hers with such intensity that she shrunk back. He roared at her, wrath fuelling the fire in his eyes. His deep, rough voice filled the room with shouts that bounced off the walls. Even if she didn't understand him it was clear that he was cursing her very existence, that she was at fault. Within a daedric ruin the threats felt real no matter the language and she wished to be someplace other as soon as possible. When red runes began to glow on the walls surrounding her, she knew her luck had finally run out.

Cursing turned to a scoff and the moans stopped completely when the runes pulsed madly. The air thickened and buzzed, aligned with the intensity of the red. Her heart pumped wildly, living to its fullest as best as it could in the last few minutes it had left. She couldn't move her body, had no control over it. Fear immobilized her.

Fury filled her mind and she saw red in front of her eyes. The fierceness swallowed her. Sweat streamed down her face.

_"Do you seek your death so soon, mortal?"_

She searched for the source of the voice but quickly realized that it came from inside her own mind. She coughed weakly. Her hand reached up to her throat and she gasped for air where there was none. _What do I-_

_"I will crush you where you stand!" _he roared. Sona choked miserably and her eyes rolled upward. _Murderer._ That one word filled her entire being. She clenched her eyes close tightly but his presence was still there, nestled deep inside her head. Her heart was ready to burst through her chest. This was the end. Tears ran down her cheeks.

Blending white exploded in front of her eyes.

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_This is the rewritten first chapter, for any rereading the story. Shorter but much more dense, in my opinion. For anyone new: Welcome and stay awhile!_


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own The Elder Scrolls series in any way.**

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Her breathing was shallow when she awoke. Her body trembled and her throat felt dry and scratchy.

With shaky hands, Sona heaved herself up, barely managing the small act when her arms shook uncontrollably and threatened to give in on her. Her head throbbed and she felt dazed. Wet strands of hair clung to her forehead.

She looked around but she couldn't see anything but the faint glimmer of the runes, lightly illuminating the room. She knitted her brows together, trying to sort through the mess inside her mind. But no memories formed when she tried to recollect the past minutes after that... voice spoke to her. She must've lost consciousness. _What happened?_

As if waiting for the question to be asked, she felt something shift in the air. Her heart skipped a beat. Instinctively she reached for her weapon. Someone had entered the room. _No, no living being._ The presence filled the whole room, radiated power and confidence. She gulped and restrained the urge to touch her neck. The memories of what _he _could do were fresh and vivid, rushing past her in flight. Why was she alive? She doubted that the gods could reach within this dark place to save her even if she begged for it.

_"You are no mage." _A shiver went down her spine and goosebumps formed on her arms. The deep voice was back inside her head. The smallest hint of curiosity behind the statement before he started circling her; a breeze in the air that could not exist in this closed room.

When he received no answer, he turned his attention away from her. _"Yet my shrine lies in ashes."_ She let go of the breath she hadn't noticed even holding. He was calm, offering her a wordless and sudden truce when moments ago he'd planned her death. The sudden change troubled her. Just what _had_ happened that she was still alive? She didn't trust in this fragile peace. No matter who he was, the Daedric Princes were rarely known to be gentle.

He was quick to interrupt her thoughts, the shadow of a shadow inches away from her face. She could feel something stare. Breath against her cheek. Challenging her to back away. Fear welled up again, licking across her mind and body but Sona shook her head to dismiss it. _Survive._ _There is no one inside the room. _She'd survived him once. All she needed was to find out how and fear wouldn't help her achieve that. Her breathing slowed, using the break he gave her to clear her head and shut the emotions away and he patiently let her gather herself for as long as she needed.

It was when she firmly stared back into the shadow in front of her when he chuckled menacing. _"Do you believe I will let you gather your wits, mortal? Or have you already forgotten?" _Searing pain lashed across her body as a heavy weight pressed onto her injury, like a fist drilling into it. She hissed and reached for her side, clutching it tightly, all of her suddenly forced aware of the wound she'd blinked out. But he wouldn't stop there._ "I can reach into this realm without difficulties," _he snarled. Again came the pressure, the invisible hand, winding its way past her fingers directly into the open flesh, tearing at the sensitive tissue. A cry got caught in her throat and instead escaped as a whimper. He ripped the wound open further.

Laughter accompanied his action and a flood of feelings that were not hers rushed through her. He wanted to kill her badly. But he'd toy with her before instead. Torture her until she broke. Unconsciousness pulled at the ends of her mind but she fought against it. She'd survived and awakened only to find more torture waiting for her. The circle of entertainment started anew. The picture of a torn and tattered back and the rustling of chain flashed up momentarily, flaring her anger.

"Bastard," she managed to squeeze out between breaths. Sona had survived longer than any men or mer would have expected of her. She'd survived and escaped but she wasn't willing to pay the price that he offered. Invaluable she was. Her heart clenched together at the prospect of death. _I hate you,_ she thought bitter. _I am not your toy!_

He roared and the runes flared, awakened by the feelings of their master. She braced herself for another attack when he left her, holding onto the bleeding wound with one hand. The throbbing pain was overwhelming and she wanted to vomit.

The anger evaporated before it struck her. He continued his lingering, his cold, menacing circles around her, relishing in her wincing and squirming. The blood dripped off the statue, coating it further in the dark crimson of her life.

_"Do you want to live, mortal?"_ He asked eventually.

He couldn't be trusted. He was disgusting. Another wave of pain washed over her and her eyes widened. A cruel being through and through. But she couldn't stop the glimmer of hope from sprouting, despite her anger at being toyed with. _To live. _

It was all she'd ever wanted.

_"When I ask, you **answer****!**"_ Wind blew through the room, whipping her hair wildly back and forth. She shouldn't answer him. She should spit at him.

Yet she did.

_I hate you. _"What's your deal, Prince?" Sona cast her eyes downwards. The question was barely audible, just above a whisper filled with shame. She couldn't end it like this; after such a short, meaningless time.

Looking down, she stared into the orange orbs of the Dremora whose presence she'd wholly forgotten. No emotions betrayed his face and the eyes looked like an endless pit of lava. Her fate was even unbeknownst to him although he knew, just as she did, what she'd started with her answer.

_"The rules for survival are simple, little one. I am certain you will find out soon enough."_ Something entered her body, grasping her heart; stroking it gently. Her defences were weakened, her mind numb but the fact that she'd made a sinful pact. _"Show me that you are worthy the mercy of Mehrunes Dagon."_

With that, his threatening presence vanished from the room.

* * *

The sweat poured down her face. Her arms were tired, the bandages at her side bloody again. She'd stopped aiding it. The injury opened too quick, each stone a strain on it. As long as she drank driblets of her potion and kept her body from bleeding out, she was fine.

How much time had passed, she didn't know. Nothing this deep beneath the earth helped to tell the time. Her lonely wheezing filled the room. She only knew that she did not have _enough. _Her fingernails scraped across the stone, trying to loosen the chunks_. _She angrily pulled at the stone, not caring that it could crush her if she did one wrong move. Doing this in the almost dark was prone to fail eventually. _Destruction, _she thought bitterly. It fit him.

The chunk slid out and she stumbled back, barely maintaining her balance. With heavy breaths, Sona threw the piece of stone as far as she could. It crashed onto ground loudly, the noise making her cringe. How long would it take for her to clear the passage on her own? What if the tunnel had collapsed as well? Her cheeks flared up. She didn't know if he could freely read her mind or if he could only directly afflict it with his own feelings. If he planned to torture her according to her worst memories, she'd stop this play as soon as she could.

She heard a pained hiss from her left disrupt the silence and immediately her own back curved, her hands clutching her stomach in pain. Pearls of sweat dripped onto her bruised fingers. _How long can I keep this up? _

When most of the pain subsided, she dragged herself back to the crumbled wall, beginning her task anew. Exhaustion lulled her grip after the sudden pain; fatigue tore at her. _Entertainment. _That she was to him. Weak and pathetic next to his prowess. A plaything. One of the smaller rocks wound up in her hand and she threw it to her side. She glanced at the Dremora buried beneath the stone, as she'd done many times already. If she managed to pull him out from his prison, he would bleed out quickly. He would take her with him, whether he knew or not. His eyes were closed most of the times, rarely more than orange slits at others.

His words had sounded as a task of repentance, to clear the way to his shrine. It was the only way out and the only way for her to survive, so she'd thought. Yet she had never truly expected for him to keep to his word and the loopholes and impossibility of her task were apparent. _Entertainment,_ she thought again. He wanted her to die. But he wanted her despair, her crushed hopes first.

She pulled her sword to try dislodging the stones with the help of the sharp iron but froze with the weapon in hand. He wouldn't act on his end of the deal peacefully, when she'd escaped his grasp once. She was dead in every scenario she thought up for herself, trapped inside this dark prison, yet her heart clenched together every time anew. Deep down she wanted to live so desperately that she couldn't bring herself to stop her life on her own even as the sharp edge hovered mere inches away from her neck.

A black glint aimed at the weapon and flung the sword out of her hand. It slid across the floor far and wide, stopping next to the leather armor she'd taken off. Orange, glowing eyes stared down at her. A silent threat to her life, which made the irony only sweeter.

"_You _won't let me die?" He growled in response and she snorted. "Well, if that's not ridiculous." She moved to get her sword and he did not stop her. He hadn't interrupted her in any way since she'd realized what kind of game Dagon was playing with her. Not that she didn't know that he was watching her himself. A sudden breeze would remind her to continue what she'd been tasked and the echo of a laugh would fill the room whenever pain engulfed her and rendered her helpless.

Once she reached for it, pain came crushing down on her, blinding her in its intensity. She held onto her arm. A guttural, angry cry filled the room and she turned to look in time to see the Dremora turn his sword torturously slow inside the upper arm of his crushed brother. Tears escaped her eyes and a scream of her own followed. Her muscles tore, blood flowed out. _Stop! Make it stop! _

He withdrew the sword with a smacking sound and closed the distance between them. Sona lay panting on the ground, a mess inwardly and outwardly. He knelt down in front of her and cleaned his sword on her tunic. Exactly on the same spot he'd just pierced his sword through, leaving the blood to dry next to her own seeping through the cloth.

"Kill," he breathed before he stood up and walked back to his previous position in the corner, guarding the room. Her.

She lay there for what felt eternity, sharing the pain of the pierced and crushed Dremora. The wound was still open, she knew; bled and colored the floor crimson. Sona brought herself to stand on her feet again with a grim smile. He'd entwined their fates and left it to her to gauge the time she had left to live. His life was seeping away. All she could do was try to save him and hope that she would somehow survive this another time.

She rummaged through the small bag she'd carried with her and pulled out the bandages, tying them tightly around her arm with the help of her teeth, ignoring the sting that came along. She glanced at the crushed Dremora again, the unknown one that had appeared all of a sudden in the room. Where he'd been before she didn't know. Why he'd chosen such a time to appear escaped her just as well. Even if he were summoned for the sole reason of torturing her, their fates entwined nonetheless. Dagon had cursed and bound her to life itself - to his life.

And when he died, she would as well.

* * *

_This one's a toughy. Character of the protagonist is still a relative mistery because of the speed of all the things happening around her. She's got no time to think, to mull over the past which she'd escaped from.  
_

_But! Finally there is an update and continuation of this story. Hope you enjoyed it. If not - then tell me even more so! :)_


	3. Chapter 3

**I don't own anything from The Elder Scrolls series.**

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They conversed behind her back; hissing, rough sounds so unlike human despite their familiar appearances. Sona tried her best to ignore them while she pulled on the handle of her sword, careful not to slip on the floor. Her muscles bulged and she clenched her teeth but she knew she'd heard the stone rumble and shift once. Her back curved, her legs slithered across the floor, walking on the same spot. Then the rugged, rune-carved stone sprung out of place and rocketed into the wall. She toppled, crashing flat on her back. The pile shook and grumbled but only few escaped and glided down after the first one, quickly closing the hole she'd made with new ones.

She stood up and dusted herself off, glaring at the daedric creatures laughing at her demise. They knew exactly how irritating they were, how irritated she was. Conscious, the crushed Dremora endured the pain of tons of stone upon him. Although he seemed capable of doing so, she lost her concentration, became irritated and restless. The stinging inside her stomach wouldn't leave and would occasionally flare up like she was used to before calming to a never ending throb. It drove her crazy.

Sona inspected the sword in her hand, brushing over the bents the iron had earned with the rough handling. How long until it broke or the lever mechanism lost in efficiency? The stones wouldn't always be moved by the blade and the procedure was time-consuming and tiring. Her stomach growled. She had no food on her, too quickly had she packed her things to leave. Apart from her potions and the stolen bottle of wine she'd wanted to drink on a peaceful evening, she'd only found a few herbs in her bag, too bitter to eat unboiled and not nutritious enough even if it were the case.

Her eyes glanced to the side and she sheathed her sword and walked up to the corpse before settling into a crouch. It reeked of death, although not as strong as it should have been. She mused that the decaying process would go different paces inside this enclosed, 'sacred' room. It was not completely halted but slowed. The absence of insects further supported the thought. Normally they found their ways in every construct intruding this deep into their homes.

The corpse was cold and stiff and she fumbled around the sides. Her fingers found and ripped the familiar leathery texture off its owner, untying the knot to the pouch with ease. She spread the content in her lap. He hadn't carried much with him.

She undid the small bow on a parchment. The roughness of the paper was soothing to the touch, an invitation to rest and remember, to forget the rugged stones that pierced her hands over and over. Sona inched closer to the light the walls offered. With squinted eyes she read the symbols on the scroll. The element of fire was magically imbued within the paper. How strong it would be once unleashed was uncertain but judging by the twisted, strong lines it was of explosive nature. Sona smiled grimly. Just what she needed in her current predicament. She placed the scroll on the ground.

She knew by the smell what was waiting for her in the neatly packed bundle she'd placed on her lap. Ripping it open, the smell of crab and bread flooded her senses and her stomach growled in response. Her teeth tore through the tender flesh impatiently. The bread was hard and the flesh chewy but she didn't care as long as it stuffed her. This was the whole reason she'd come by the corpse at all.

Her eyes wandered towards the mountain of stone while she licked her fingers clean. Taking them down one by one was near impossible now. She'd gathered a pile as high as herself in one corner of the room but those were the smallest chunks. The kinds one could still heave and carry. Her hands were barely able to hold onto any of the rocks, too much weight held them firmly in place. The sword proved to be useless, too. She'd die of starvation or a rock to her head before she even got close to the exit. Albeit dangerous, she'd rather bet on the one card she got now and go out with a bang.

Before she gathered herself up, she uncorked the bottle the dark elf had on him and sniffed at its content. The faint smell of herbs proved her assumptions right and she corked it close tightly. Health Potion. A strong one at that.

Pondering about it one moment, she eventually went and knelt down next to the crushed Dremora, her boots swirling up the new layer of dust and debris. He looked up at her distrustfully. His eyes had a stronger reddish tone, reminding her of melting iron in a forge. Red tattoos followed the contours of his face, the lines crossing at his cheekbones. She licked her lips. Never in her life could she have imagined to be as close to such a creature to tell the small differences in them. Sona shook the bottle in her hand.

"Drink this," she said with a raspy voice.

Bellowing, mocking laughter erupted from the corner followed by an incomprehensible grunt. The one next to her lashed back at him, his eyes flaring with anger. He hissed in mid-sentence, the sudden movement a strain on his body and she flinched just a moment later and cursed under her breath. This curse was the worst thing she could have ended up with, the icing on a cake. With the free arm he had, he tried to fling her potion out of her grasp but she dodged quick enough.

Her fingers fumbled the scroll open and showed it into his face. She'd fallen for the offer of his master but he had to hold true to his words. Daedric Princes did not go back on deals once established but they used every loop-hole possible to make life hell. She experienced _that_ with every fiber of her body. "Do you see this?" she hissed. "I wouldn't give a damn about your life if it didn't mean my death. But I don't want do die." She inched closer until their noses almost touched. His breath was hot, erratic but he kept his facade up well considering the circumstances. "Believe it or not: I will escape this place _alive,_" she whispered for only him to hear. He opened his mouth, most likely to growl or bite her, and she used the chance to shove him the bottle between the lips. Her foot caught his hand from interfering and her own free hand forced his head back painfully by his hair.

The surprise rendered him helpless to the small Bosmer and he gulped the cleansing liquid down before he knew what was happening to him. The bottle left his lips with a plopping sound and a grin played around her face. She drank the last driblets herself and enjoyed the warmth that spread through her insides, the lightness of her body that followed the magical drink.

She let the bottle roll off her hand carelessly. It didn't shatter but it wouldn't matter if it had. It was her last one. She owned but mere drops in the ones in her bag and they wouldn't last her very long. Nothing could heal her up completely when he slowly gained more wounds with each passing hour. It was a gamble she wondered to have survived for so long.

Sona picked up the shield she'd carefully removed off the corpse's stiff fingers and climbed between the legs of the statue. She heard a faint chuckle from the back of her head. The irony that she was using him as a mean of defense was not beyond her.

The runes lit up brighter, allowing her to read the magical incantation without worrying to read a symbol wrong. His attention was fully on her, curious about the spectacle to unfold.

The words rolled off her tongue and she felt her skin prickle, threads of magic in the air pulling at her fingers and face. Warmth spread through her insides and a ball of flame weaved itself into existence in mid-air. When the last word left her mouth, she averted her gaze from the painfully bright ball to the pile in front. The ball shuddered and in the blink of an eye, it shot towards the rocks.

The impact came as soon as she'd crouched behind the shield, clutching it tightly, holding onto her dear life. The room shook wildly, bright as the day. Burning rocks shot past her and knocked into the shield, a tremble that traveled up her whole arms. Fire licked at the walls and she prayed her bag wouldn't catch fire.

Stars danced in front of her eyes and her skin burned from the heat. It was but an echo, just enough to let her know that the fire hadn't engulfed her but him and she held onto that thought, not wanting to lose consciousness.

It was over as quickly as it had started, the dust and the sparks of fire dancing in the air the only evidence of what had happened. Thick smoke spread through the room and she pulled her tunic over her nose, alarmed. She'd thought that magical fire wouldn't leave the same fumes as normal ones. She kept her breathing shallow when it engulfed her. What should she do?

The impenetrable black wouldn't dissipate for minutes and the swathes sneaked their ways into her lungs. She spit out what entered through her mouth but quickly ended in a coughing fit. _Shit. _It didn't help that she felt the effects of the potion fade away and the familiar stinging returned, more intense than before. When another cough shook her, she threw the shield away and waded through the dark, her eyes slits against the burning sensation of the smoke brushing them.

She had to find out if he was alright and drag him out of this room. Her legs wobbled, suddenly numb and beyond control. Confusion gave way to horrified realization.

She crouched on all fours when her feet stumbled over the sea of stones. Her free hand felt up the floor, searching for the Dremora, while awkwardly pinning the tunic close to her nose with the other. Her hand brushed over rocks, bruising itself over their rough ends until it grasped something firm and warm. Even if the body was hidden beneath thick armor, the heat managed to shine through. Her vision spun and she clenched her teeth. Not that she could see much but she felt what must have happened and touched her way down his body. Grim joy filled her when she felt both his legs, finally free from their confinement.

Her coughing became worse, the smoke entering further with each she had. She shook the body but it wouldn't move. He wasn't dead, he couldn't be. She reached for his neck, fumbling around the collar of the armor, and felt his beating heart. This couldn't be the end.

Desperately, she tore the fabric of her tunic and held her breath to bind it around his head tightly. Her head spun around, looking for the other Dremora but he was nowhere in sight; not his glowing eyes nor a cough betrayed his presence.

All she had around her were rocks and she could still touch a high pile where she'd sent the fireball to. She regretted her decision. They were deep beneath the earth and if she hadn't even opened up a little hole, it would take hours for the smoke to dissipate, to eat up all air inside.

Sona leaned back, suddenly very tired. Her own stupidity had led her to this place and it was the same stupidity that would mean her death. _I have survived longer than any men or mer would have expected, _she repeated her own words as if to soothe her beating heart. It was not as if anyone cared whether she lived or died. There was no one but herself. Relying on that had brought her this far, only to succumb to a wall of smoke. Not a daedric creature ended her life but a side effect of nature. She cursed her situation once more before her lids fluttered shut and she drifted into a different kind of black.

* * *

Her eyes snapped open and she gasped for breath like a drowning man surfacing the water. She choked on her own attempts and coughed, dry and scratchy to her throat. Her hand shot up around her neck to calm the pain but it wouldn't go away.

It took her minutes to regain her composure. Her body was heavy and exhausted, her head felt groggy and rolled around on the stones behind her as she took in her surroundings with disappointment. The same four-armed statue stared at her as it had always done, a shout on his lips, the gigantic axe raised for battle. The room glowed an eerie red that gave the stones scattered around the room the appearance of rubies flowing to being onyxes where the light didn't reach.

How had she survived? The smoke... her eyes widened as she realized what was wrong with the room and her waking up at all. The smoke had disappeared altogether. She shifted her weight and pushed herself up the wall behind her, when her fingers slipped over something wet on the floor. It didn't take long for the memories to rush through her mind, the dam of the shaky consciousness breaking.

She struggled up with a groan, stumbling all the way to her bag. The fire had made good work of the room, soot blackening the corners and the platform of the statue, rocks torn in half. It hadn't succeeded in destroying anything inside. Dagon's power must be guarding it from harm. The extent of her own musings reached her as she grasped her bag. _All _inside was guarded. She squeezed the fabric in her hand. Her bag, the corpse, the statue, the _living_ inhabitants.

One glance into the opposite corner revealed her suspicion. The smug-faced Dremora was alive and well, looking unshaken by all that had transpired. His eyes fixed on her with a burning intensity that betrayed his real feelings towards her actions. She tore her gaze away and crouched back to the one she'd freed.

He was still unconscious, which proved to be better for her. She felt calmer without the gnawing, throbbing pain following her every step. She bit her lip at the sight in front of her, while she pulled out the bandages.

The same dark armor adorned his body, streaks of red occasionally peeking through the black, adding a sinister, dangerous feel to it. Her fingers gently followed the lines of red, following the sharp forms of the thick material. Not a spot of skin was uncovered. Her fingers stopped to hover over two deep gashes on his lower back, where the black plates had given in to the pressure and ripped.

With the little she got, the wounds wouldn't heal but it could buy her the time she needed to get out. She didn't dare look at the entrance, the uneasy feeling that she would be disappointed, desperate and angry hindered her from it. Instead she focused on the sides of his armors, searching for clasps to get it off him. She couldn't believe that it was a one-pieced breastplate, too scaled and incarnate were the plates and too agile did they seem to move in them, as far as she remembered her brief encounter. If it were, she would be faced with a whole new problem.

He stirred when she found the first of the well hidden clasps beneath one of the scales winding its way to the front. The pattern continued another three times on both sides and she loosened them first before unclasping the front and back of the armor. Only the back alone made her arms give in before she threw it on the ground.

Different smells greeted her the moment his ebony skin laid bare in front of her and her stomach lurched when blood streamed down around her legs, a lake that had been released when she'd removed the armor that withheld it. Blood was tingled with sweat and had dried around the fringy ends of the torn flesh. Bruises colored the skin up until his shoulder blades in different shades, only shadowing what damage lay beneath.

She couldn't resist the urge to touch her own back, to search for the same wounds but they weren't there. All of his wounds, all of his pain had reflected on her. She glanced on the bloody spot on the arm of her tunic then to the same spot on his arm, where the sword had pierced a hole in the armor. The only reasonable solution was that the gashes had been inflicted before Dagon had cursed them and therefore withdrew from the range of the magic. The pain coming from them was real enough, though.

The blood soaked her pants and made her shiver. She pulled the health potion out and poured little of the liquid onto the open wound. He gasped, growled and she too, winced at the sudden burn. She held him down as she repeated the procedure on the other end. His eyes snapped open and he let out a painful cry before struggling from her grasp, scraping across the floor like a limbless worm. He was unable to stand up and she had no strength to stop him. With him conscious again, all the pain hit her fully, traveling up her spine and her breathing became shallow, her head spun.

"Don't move!" she shouted angrily, holding onto her head. It felt like it would explode. He didn't listen, spat something in his own language at her before continually trying to stand up on his own feet unsuccessfully. His daedric brother decided to help for the first time, although not her but him and it worsened the situation further.

He heaved the other up and gave him halt. Sona screamed as she felt something shatter. Broken! It made no sense for the leg to break now when it had endured endless tons of stone! She forced her legs to move and both obeyed weakly. They were not broken but the pain unbelievably real. She'd escaped barely.

The potion lay shattered on the ground, what was left of its content mixing with the blood. The Dremora retreated into their corner while she stayed in hers. For the first time she allowed herself to take a look at the entrance.

Something inside her cracked when the pile that had loomed into the room had disappeared only to reveal more stone. The corridor was what had collapsed after all. Dagon's power guarded this room. The rules for survival were simple. But impossible to achieve.

* * *

Her eyes fluttered open when her head rolled to the side. Darkness greeted her. Not even the runes were lit, Mehrunes Dagon not bothering to watch her any longer. They both knew she was dead. She didn't entertain him any longer. Sona raised the bottle to her lips again, enjoying the warmth that traveled through her body. The wine tasted good, the grapes fruity. She shook the bottle and heard the wine splash around. She'd have enough to last her for a while. The time passed differently when she drifted into sleep and back to life again but it would last long enough until death embraced her.

Sleep she needed but felt deprived of it every time she awoke. Her body had gone on health potions alone, on willpower. She had none any longer. She took another gulp.

Such an interesting adventure she'd witnessed but none would write about it. About the Bosmer that had stolen a magical artifact and escaped the mages for weeks before eventually dying to the darkest creatures on Tamriel. She chuckled. It was a step up from being killed by nature.

It was the first time she thought of the little troublemaker she'd picked up and she placed the bottle down to pull it out of the pocket of her armor. Her mind had been focused on the situation at hand, not wanting to yield to the inevitable. Reality had finally caught up to her, lastly when she noticed the presence of the Daedric Prince fade away. She could rest with the few good memories she had, if she had the time to spare.

She unwrapped the paper and took out the ring with a frown. The small orb on top glowed a bright red, lighting everything within a feet. On closer inspection she saw mists move within, almost peacefully circling in endless eternity.

The ring had never glowed. She turned it around and inspected it from all directions. Why did it glow now – or had it always since she'd entered? The last time she'd taken a look at it was when she'd packed him inside the pocket.

The longer she stared at it, the calmer she felt. It was if the ring spoke to her, patted her hair and told her that all would be good. That he would protect her. She didn't dare take her eyes off it, fearing that the hope it gave her would disappear as soon as she did. It was a breeze that played with her hair, one she hadn't felt in a long time, that forced her away with a quickening heart beat. Why was he here now out of all times?

"I know you're watching, Dagon," she whispered into the dark but he didn't answer her.

It took no great mind to guess what had earned his curiosity, had lured him out from him realms into the mortal world. When she clenched the ring tightly in her hand, the glow disappearing and the darkness engulfing her, she could feel his stare follow her fist. She almost snorted. It was too simple to be true that all it took was a small ring to catch his interest.

_'The rules for survival are simple, little one. I am certain you will find out soon enough.'_

She stared at the ring inside her hand. She was pretty sure she'd just found out.

* * *

_This one's long, took a long time to be written and is the introduction to a hopefully long story. I plan to take this further than just a few chapters inside a dark ruin. The setting does get a little repetitive. ;) _

_One of the reviewers has asked and guessed right: this currently takes place in Morrowind, Vvardenfell. No great knowledge is needed because this story plays out a few years after the game's plot and just a year or so before Oblivion's. Mehrunes Dagon is preparing his invasion and is growing in strength. And we will find out how exactly Sona fits into all of that._


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